For Reasons Of Enjoyment
by tokyo girl 05
Summary: Saint Georges Day/Iggy's Bday Fic! UKUS if you squint. Can't a man just not celebrate his birthday in peace? Is it too much to ask that he just wants to celebrate the national date of his country. Sometimes things aren't that easy. T for language.


A/N: Heya! I know it's a day late as Saint Georges was yesterday XD But I hope this is okay…I keep think it went wrong. UKUS if you squint. English spellings 'cause I'm English :D Tell me what you think ne? Random OC appearances.

Disclaimer: If I owned, ukus would be official and Iggy would wear his pirate clothes :D

* * *

Sighing, the slim male, most commonly known as England, stopped at the front of a large oak door which would, eventually, lead him into the conference room. Already he could hear the sounds of squabbling nations and various debates echoing through the thick walls of the building as none came to a decision yet all wanted to be heard.

His hand hovered, undecided as to whether or not it would be worth it to walk in or to just turn away and leave the chaotic mess. They would all stare, questions would be asked, really was it too much that nobody make such a big deal out of this day, as he knew they would once he walked inside?

Not that he wasn't proud of it by no means, if anything this day made him ecstatic for one reason. His people were celebrating everywhere: noisy pubs and fates along the streets and towns, his flag waving beautifully from people's windows, flag poles and where ever else they could find to fly her. Yes, this day made him so very proud...

But there was something else that came with this day that probably wasn't even correct; Arthur Kirkland, England, couldn't even remember the date himself, so had no right to judge. He usually just went with it when this day arrived.

But today just happened to have a difference, and that difference was that as soon as he opened this door -which he now did, resigned to his fate as he was- everyone would, predictably, belt up and turn to stare at him. Various nations looking like gapping fish, tomato red or in one Frenchman's case; delirious with perverted joy.

England inwardly groaned before throwing back his shoulders and walking in to his seat as a proper gentleman should, working hard to ignore all the stares being eyed up and down his body at his attire.

England was dressed in neither of the usual military uniform, nor the suit and sweater vest he was so acclaimed for. Hell, he wasn't going through a punk phase or even a silly dare even, or...or...

The nation twitched, slightly vexed now he realised just how many outfits people had pegged him to wear. But currently, the Englishman was dressed well, somewhat like a modern knight.

The entire room took in his appearance as he walked towards his seat; the long white coat, so perfectly tailored to his body, a large red cross embroidered down the length and width of the back, its arms slimmed down nicely to his wrists, and it's collar shaped and fastened around his throat with metal clasp. His torso also wore a white top, fitted perfectly with a smart collar and a small insignia over his left breast at the heart. Even his trousers were tailor perfect, the well fitting dark material following the same flow and cut and as the other pieces right down to his shoes, reminiscent of the knights of old but far more practical.

Some how the outfit seemed to completely throw away the notion that this could ever be fancy dress, but topped it straight into fashionable and just plain jaw dropping and stunning. Well at least, that what it appeared to be...no one was laughing at him, rather they were all just staring...or attempting to molest him -France- in some cases.

England took his seat, being careful to position the coat tail carefully as not to crease or ruin it, before leaning backwards, arms folded to glare steadily up at everyone, waiting for them to either carry on or, most likely, assault him.

"Before you ask," He began, smoothly and not at all trying to save himself from that dilemma. "It was a gift from the queen and the royal guards. It was a specific request I wore this today."

France was the first to break the wondering silence, flinging himself towards the poor nation with a cry of 'delight'. "Mon cher~! You look absolutely--"

It didn't take two seconds for him to be punched to the floor with a thousand insults soon following after him.

Before the island super power could deal another blow to the Frenchman, a hum came from across the table and several eyes swivelled around to stare questioningly at the Spaniard who leant smiling on his hand.

"Hm~ Feliz cumpleaños Inglettera," grinned Antonio, eyeing him with quite an evil smile as suddenly confusion swept through the many nations present. "How old are you this year? Happy Saint Georges, Inglettera~"

"None of your bloody business you prat!" England snapped, bristling in his seat with a hiss. But the damage was already done. Those who understood Spanish or the implication behind the brunette's words were mumbling confusedly about him now. "Yes yes, you too bastard.

Just next to him, Ireland was laughing loudly at his brother listing off ridiculous ages before England coldly pointed out he was several years older than him and swatted him around the head, threatening to remind everyone about that Saint Patrick's Day incident.

"Look I don't know what the fuck you lot are putting into your bloody heads, but it is not my birthday," England growled, standing up from his seat and slamming his hand onto the table above everyone's increasing voices. "Today is Saint George's day in my country, which is the only explanation for my current outfit. Now get it out of your daft heads tha-"

"Wait!? It's Iggy's birthday!?" A loud, very shocked cry broke him off. If looks could burn, then the loud nation would be nothing but cinders under the former empires gaze. Just a few seats away, America now stood up, leaning across to get a better look at his former brother figure, gawping like a beached fish. "You have a birthday!?"

"Of course I have a birthday you bloody twat! We all do." Was England's sharp reply, looking at the younger nation as if he was stupid...well he wouldn't put it past him. "Honestly Alfred, I would have thought you'd have gained common sense by now!"

"Hey! I have awesome sense! I just didn't think you get any _older,_" America grinned, sending him a cocky look as his voice was nothing but taunting. "So how old are you gramps?"

Arthur Kirkland was many things if not a mature person, but in an instance like this, that did not stop him throwing the closest thing at hand straight at the idiotic countries head with a resounding crack. "I am not old you bastard!"

Any chance of a new war starting out was thrown off as a pair of arms glomped the shorter man with an over joyed cry. "Ve ve~ It's England's birthday, we should celebrate! Ve~ Doitsu?"

England flapped and tried to keep balance with the slightly over exuberant country clinging to him. Celebrate? His...sort of, birthday!? That could not end well. "Th-That won't be necessary Italy, you needn't bother." He tried, carefully untangling himself from the other to re-take his seat. "I have no need to celebrate anything other than what this day is really for, so if you _all_ don't mind, I came here for a meeting, not a party. So get on with it."

"Ve~ I guess England's getting cranky with old age~" Italy sulked, falling back into his chair to move closer to Germany with a small pout. "Is that right Doitsu? Oh! Happy Saint Georges Day England~"

England spluttered and turned red. "I'm not old damn it! If anything quite a lot of you all are ten times older than me! And just because I don't want to celebrate one more year doesn't make me 'cranky'...and thank you, you too."

"Ah mon cher, this is a shame non? You look so...." France gave a suggestive sigh as he returned to his seat from the floor, finally awake. "It's bad form not to celebrate one's anniversaire."

"Oh belt up frog, it's my decision what I do on my 'birthday' and how I spend it, now get on with the meeting and stop wasting my time," England glared, ignoring the protests that followed him from the country of love, and making a mental note to thank Spain for this lovely mess.

Slowly the meeting got back to order with ridiculous notions being thrown out into the air and being shot down just as fast, along with several arguments sprouting from the smallest of things. As usual Prussia managed to sneak into the meeting, practically tackling England in his need to explain how awesome he looked, but not as awesome as himself of course, before a frying pan made its way to his head. There were many incidents involving Russia, his claims for it being his way of celebrating the patron day and the need to run away in fear. But over all, the conference meeting went exactly as usual, to the painful point of many fights, shouts and problems never getting solved.

By the end of the near day long meeting, England was tired, irritated and just wanted a drink, or several. Everyone was clearing out from the conference room, filling out loudly, quickly and not fast enough for his liking. The room was nearly empty by the time England tiredly stood up and stretched, his small stature looking so much fuller and taller in his new clothing. He turned with a yawn to leave the room only to find himself walking straight into something solid, but not terribly painful.

Stepping back he looked up to see confused and unsure sky blue eyes staring down at him, through the glass of Texas sitting on their owner's nose. England blinked, unused to seeing that expression on the grown American's features; sure enough he had seen it as a young colony but never on the exuberant and hyperactive, brash male before.

"America?" England asked, raising an impressive eyebrow at the others odd silence.

America frowned and stared at him critically, making the smaller nation begin to feel slightly uncomfortable. "S'really your birthday? And what's Saint George's day, Iggy?"

England blinked for a moment before responding. If the American wanted to learn something, then by all rights he wasn't going to deny him a chance to be taught. "Well, I've been around a long time America; to be honest I don't remember my real birthday. It's just all of you, when you care to remember today, use this to celebrate it."

"So you don't really have a birthday?" America asked, looking a bit perplexed and, was that sad?

"Today would be my birthday...you all claim it so, and it's as good a day as any," England thought, because really, if you didn't know the real date, might as well have a good one to choose. "So I'd assume that would be fine."

America frowned some more before nodding, really all this strange silence was making England rather uncomfortable. He just wanted to leave and go celebrate with the rest of his people.

"If that's all I'll be leaving, I've had enough of this place as it is," England spoke up, moving to walk around the taller male towards he door.

"Ah, wait! I'll come with you!" America cried, following after him.

England sighed in aggravation, was it too much t be left alone? "And just why are you coming with me? I don't recall inviting you anywhere."

"Because, you need to celebrate your birthday and who better to help, than a hero to stop you being so grumpy?" America grinned, a cheer in his voice as he walked by his side, dodging the blow England sent his way.

"I told you I do not want to celebrate my apparent birthday damn it! Did all those bloody action movies destroy your hearing from explosions, or are you fucking stupid?"

"Why don't you want to celebrate?" America continued on, completely ignoring the others ranting and cursing. "I mean, it's your birthday, Iggy!"

"Because maybe, just maybe I want to celebrate with the rest of my country, a day that is far more important to me than a bloody date to be fussed over," England huffed. "So unless you want to come to the pub with me and what not, to celebrate my patron saint, then I suggest you jog on and leave me alone America. I'd like to enjoy the rest of my day not spend it arguing."

"Then I'll come with you," America replied, sounding definite and cheerful.

"Fine then yo- What!? Why!? You're not English, this isn't even a day you celebrate," England flapped, completely exasperated by the other. "Why on Earth would you come along, to something patriotic towards _England_!?"

"Because I want to," America answered, following the Brit down out of the building and down the busy pavements. "'Sides, it's for English people right? Way I see it, aside from the natives, first people in the Americas were Spanish, French and English...yup mainly English people~"

"You are unbelievable! You're the biggest hypocrite to walk this planet you know that!?" England half yelled, walking faster past buildings sporting flags and banners. "You pull the whole independence act, and then now you want to celebrate my national holiday with an acclaim to your heritage. You're ridiculous. I don't come to your house to celebrate that accursed day, so I see no reason why you need to be here."

"Aw, c'mon Arthur, you wont let me celebrate your birthday, so at least let me celebrate something with you," America sighed, half pouting half pleading, being cringing slightly at a new idea. "I can be like...an honorary Englishman for a day...just _today_, since I can't be awesome America here to celebrate your birthday. You so know that if we'd have dragged you to a secret party we'd all be celebrating for you, c'mon, cheer up."

"I was perfectly cheerful, my entire day was cheerful, and then it went down hill. America's biggest patriot being a complete and utter twat in my ear, you can't be native even for a day here, you're yourself so don't come up with ridiculous reasons," England argued, getting frustrated.

"Arthur! Please? Birthday or Saint what's it day, it'll be fun," America tried, catching up to the fast blonde in no time at all. All around him various buildings had the English flag, Saint Georges cross hanging in, or from there windows, or hanging various bunting strips from them too. Shops had the most, celebrating, enticing people in, but that was nothing compared to the various pubs and bars they passed, songs erupting from them as patrons sang, drank and laughed. "Arthur? What is Saint...Georges Day? What's it all about?"

England slowed down, looking up to the flags fluttering in the breeze before calming down and allowing the American to walk by his side. "In a way....it's pretty ironic, our great hero isn't even English to start with, he came from abroad, but the story goes there was a dragon, an evil creature that they fed twice a day and when they couldn't it would randomly select one of their children to be eat, by chance it was the kings daughter chosen, the man stumbled across the princess and vowed to stay and to save a her, killing the dragon. Thus he became our patron saint. Of course at the time, myself and Wales weren't best pleased, it's such a terrible thing to kill a dragon, but he creature was one of evil...it had to be done. The reason it's celebrated on this day, is to commemorate his death."

"Wow that's pretty awesome...so he's like a hero right?" America grinned, walking leisurely and looking thoughtful without hiding that childish glee.

England thought about it for a moment before smiling lightly. "Yes, yes I suppose he was."

"That's pretty awesome Iggy~ You have a hero's day," laughed America smiling brightly.

Shaking his head, England allowed a small to stay on his lips, stopping by a stall as they entered a small market strip, flags flying everywhere in their celebrations, and picked up a tiny flag from the table, passing the lady a pound from his pocket.

"Come on Alfred, I'm heading in there," England pointed, chuckling softly at the others confused expression, only slightly uncomfortable at being watched under the others gaze.

England crosses the road, weaving in and out of the people rushing about the market, taking care to keep an eye on his American counterpart in case he got swept away with the crowd. It was funny, the odd looks the both of them received, a mix of bewilderment and pride to see such a get up on someone, and looks of wonder at the blundering yank walking through their street.

With a sigh England grabbed hold of his sleeve and directed him away from the direction of the market dancers, over to other side outside of a decorated old pub.

They could hear the loud singing and laughter before England even opened the door and strode in. Several heads turned his way, but the already drunk men just cheered and continued singing some random football song.

From the bar, an older look man stood, gruff with a welcoming grin stretching across his worn face. "How's tricks England? Usual?"

"Fine mate, and yes please. Yourself?" England asked him taking a seat on top of the stool with an equally wide grin. Though it was hard to ignore America's astounded look next to him.

"England? What the hell Iggy?" America asked, knowing full well they never used nation names in public.

"Ah it's a long story...I come here often...just kinda earned it as a nickname I suppose," England rambled slightly, noting the irony of having a nickname that was actually your name. Not that the patrons of the pub knew that. "Relax it's fine."

A pint glass clanked down in front of him, frothing from the top and onto the counter. "On the house England, biggest patriot in this pub by the looks of that get up." The man laughed heartily. "Who's the yank?"

America bristled slightly, about to retort before England grinned and spoke up, teasingly. "Wants to be an honorary Englishman, what do you think about that?"

"I think you got an odd one there, what's he 'avin?" The landlord replied eyeing America with a raised brow.

"Just get him something that aint water," England grinned. In his opinion America's alcohol couldn't even get him tipsy, might as well get him to taste some proper ale.

"Gotcha," came the reply, and the man set off to tend to some more customers, chatting away and laughing as he worked.

England laughed lightly seeing his friends bemused expression and twirled the small flag between his fingers. "I'm probably going to get pissed you realise, off my head. You're getting odd looks too, so you sure you want to stay for your odd reason?"

America nodded and brightened up. "Of course I wanna stay Arty~ A hero can handle any situation. 'Sides doesn't matter what people think, I'm here to celebrate with you. So that's what matters right?"

England shook his head and chuckled, glancing up when another pint was set down before them. "For the 'honorary Englishman'." The man laughed. "Happy Saint Georges Day boys! Oh and happy birthday England old boy. What's it this year? Twenty? Hahaha."

England rolled his eyes. "Keep guessing mate, you'll get it one day."

The landlord laughed loudly and leant across the bar. "So that get up you're in. Pretty smart for a day out, 'm guessing a gift from the old trouble, eh?"

"Hardly; I'm not married. But a gift none the less," England answered, before turning to America. "This is Alfred by the way; he's deciding to tag along for the festivities."

Grinning widely America shook the man's hand, happily introducing himself, whilst the older....older looking, male twitched lightly at the strength, before excusing himself to other customers.

"So then~" America laughed, picking up his glass, England mirroring his movements.

"To Saint George," England toasted, raising it slightly until America's clinked with his.

"To another year of being old!" America cheered teasingly, unable to dodge the swat to the back of his head, before laughing at him.

The two of them both drank their drinks, before setting them back on the side, America still chuckling away at the peeved expression.

"But seriously Iggy, how old are you?"

England sighed, with a twitch. "I thought I told you already. I haven't the foggiest. Somewhere between a thousand to two thousand years....maybe....I'm not sure. It's been too long."

America hummed and stared at the blonde critically over his glass, making England blush lightly. "I'd say...... Hmm, if you get past the caterpillars above your eyes, you'd be about twenty two, give or take a year."

"Wha- You-!! Leave my eyebrows out of this you wanker!" England flapped, whacking him several times, whilst America easily kept his arms held at a safe distance.

"Hey twenty-odd's good! Be happy~" America sung, holding the Brit's arms in place. When England stopped trying to hit him, America soon got a really good look at the person before him. France had been telling no lies every time he had tried to flail over the island nation's attire, England really did look stunning.

"You know...you look like a knight, but uhm modern," America told him, blushing a bit. "That's pretty awesome Iggy~"

"I....you...that is to say," England flushed and pulled his hands back. "Thank you...I think."

America laughed lightly and drank some more. "So...you still stressed out? I think you've cheered up after everything this morning...."

England looked over to the singing group in the corner and then back to his companion smiling. "I'm perfectly happy Alfred, I've nothing to worry over and I think it'll be a grand evening. Don't you?"

"Of course it will, what with me here to make the day extra awesome!"

"Oh please, mister English wannabe~" England laughed, reaching up to stick the mini flag in America's hair, teasing as he spoke. "There now you're dressed for the occasion."

"Yeah yeah~ Just the one day, so you can be happy," America replied, rolling his eyes. "Just don't expect me to be no 'honorary American'. That date and me aren't on the greatest of terms."

America pouted childishly before grinning. "Not even for Thanks Giving?"

England narrowed his eyes and blushed. "We-we'll see, you bra- Oi!"

The drinks knocked over as America glomped hold of the unprepared nation. "Yeah! Haha~ Happy birthday Iggy, enjoy it all!"

"I-I'm sure I will," England replied, half returning the hug, only to keep his balance of course, not because he enjoyed it or anything. "I most definitely will."

--**--

The streets were quiet that night, everyone either still in the pub or asleep in their homes. Which was exactly what the plastered Brit planned to do once he made it to his door...oh wait, he was there; when did he get two doors?

He wanted to get inside, get changed and sleep, all the while singing to himself with no tune, the words half tumbling to the floor as he tried to unlock the door, but the damned bloody lock kept moving! Why wouldn't it...why...oh stay still dammit!

"Ah hah!" England cried in victory, before gloating in a slurred monologue as he got the key into place, opening the door in drunken triumph. "S'tooold yo~u.....didn't n-need no~ help! Haha~"

Behind him America, barely sober himself, attempted to roll his eyes, without feeling the need to fall over. "J'st get in."

"En~ 'n'lan~s gre'n an'...an' ple's'nt... la~~nd," England sung(?) as he stumbled into his hallway, looking up slightly dazed and dizzy. "S'why the...the ligh' on?"

America shrugged and followed him in, closing the door somehow before trying to walk in a somewhat straight line to the kitchen where England had hobbled over to.

What America heard next sobered him up a notch as a yelp and crash came from the lit room.

"Gerroffa me! Bastards!" England yelled. America, holding the door frame to keep steady, looked into the kitchen to see England sprawled out on the floor, four bodies on top of him.

"What the...."

"Little brother Hap--"

"Where the 'ell 'av ye been, ye wee bastard!"

"We've been waiting allllll daaaay t' celebrate with ya~"

America blinked and groaned at the range of fast talking accents floating through his hazy mind. On the floor how ever England groaned louder.

"Get the fuck off of me now!" He cried, trying to shove all four of the people off of him.

"Ah, shut yer trap, ye wee runt," a Scottish accent.....Hm? Oh......ooooh! "We've been 'ere all day ye ken? An' we're not leavin' till we've 'ad some celebratin'!"

"His right ya know, our kids getting old," Two voices laughed loudly, they were strong accents, and one of the boys was recognisable, Ireland? Oh so the other was.... And then that meant the guy with the sing song voice.

"S'your brothers," America spoke up, with a light bulb moment, earning all four sets of various green and blue orbs to land on him.

"Ach! It's the yank!"

"Heh heh heh~"

"Albion, what's he 'ere for?"

England glared and hissed, whacking all of them on the head in a drunken lack of coordination until they recoiled. And America wondered why he didn't want to celebrate his birthday!?


End file.
